


Serious Dysfunction

by Everyday_Im_Preaching



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Intentional Sugar Daddy, Unintentional Sugar Baby, Unrequited, Unrequited Crush, Unwanted affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyday_Im_Preaching/pseuds/Everyday_Im_Preaching
Summary: Giovanni is on vacation, when Guzma tries to shake him down for some cash. He doesn't need to think twice--the moment that Giovanni sets eyes on Guzma, he knows he's perfect.Guzma, on the other hand, doesn't feel the same.





	Serious Dysfunction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ronnaculus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ronnaculus/gifts).



> Hi there! I was ENABLED AHA.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta. You're too good to me beau.

 

There was nothing quite like the sunny paradise that was Alola; Giovanni took to the area like a Wingull to water. He’d book a vacation there whenever possible, and that was where he currently sat, soaking up the sun and fresh, ocean air.

“Oi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing on my beach, you piece of shit suit?” 

Giovanni’s eyebrows rose over his sunglasses and he tipped his head up, away from the book in his hands. He’d barely been paying attention to it anyway. The man stalking toward him was loud, angry, and covered in tattoos from head to toe. Giovanni tapped his glasses a bit further down, looking Guzma over. 

He’d heard about him—it was hard not to. Guzma was the leader of Team Skull. It was an absolute garbage organisation, but it was successful in terrorising the locals, so that was something. Giovanni pushed his glasses back up, sticking a bookmark in his book. 

“Did you fucking hear me, you piece of shit?” Guzma growled out. It was insulting to be ignored, especially by some piece of shit sunbathing on a private beach. It wasn’t his beach, but he wasn’t going to let him enjoy it in peace. “You goin’ to be on my beach, you’re goin’ to have to pay a fee.”

Giovanni let out a quiet hum, taking in the other man. He was tall, yet was hunched forward—he looked like he was attempting to intimidate him. It might’ve worked, if he was someone else. Instead, Giovanni let his eyes travel up Guzma’s forearms, mapping out his tattoos and how they disappeared up under his rolled sleeves. 

It was kind of hot.

Guzma stood there, staring down at Giovanni—the rich fuck hadn’t even bothered to move. He wanted to growl out another threat, ready to rough him up if necessary. He didn’t get a chance to, because Giovanni was pulling himself up out of his chair, body perfectly toned and evenly tanned. 

“The name is Giovanni.” 

“You think I give a shit about your name?” Guzma asked with a low growl. 

Giovanni smiled at him and Guzma wanted to wince at it. There was something scary about it, something—unflinching. Brightly painful. But he remained still, hands shoved deep into his pockets. A scowl was etched onto his face, and he refused to back down.

There was a stretched silence, hung between their two expressions like a taut laundry line.

“You’re quite… something, aren’t you.” Giovanni reached for his sunglasses, tugging them off so he could get a better look at Guzma. The longer he looked at him, the more he wanted to… he wanted to own the man in the same way a sugar daddy might look at someone as a future sugar baby. “Are you busy?”

Guzma stared at him for a moment. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you talking about? Yeah I’m fucking busy, I’m trying to fucking mug you.” Giovanni didn’t look terribly bothered by it, and honestly, he wasn’t. Guzma was about as intimidating as a puppy who’d just attempted to growl for the first time.

“There’s really no need to mug me,” Giovanni told him, the smile never leaving his face. He twitched his fingers at a nearby, hidden guard. Guzma froze, teeth bared in a growl. Giovanni took the wallet offered to him and pulled out a couple hundred dollar notes, before handing them over. “Take them. And take this.” He handed a card over to Guzma, expression softening.

Guzma snatched the money away, taking the card as well.

“Where can I find you, if I wanted to?” Giovanni asked, taking a step forward and crowding Guzma’s space. “In case I… wanted to give you a bigger donation.”

Guzma was so uncomfortable, he actually took a step back. Giovanni followed him with quick, decisive steps, until he had completely overwhelmed him. Guzma froze in place, not sure how to react. Giovanni cocked his head to the side. “Are you free for dinner?”

Giovanni’s words broke Guzma out of his terrified trance. He almost tripped as he scrambled backward, shaking his head. “Nah, dude, what the fuck, no.” He shook his head, shoving the money in his pocket. “I don’t want none of what you’re offering. Creepy sack of shit.”

Guzma shrugged off, keeping his hands tucked deep in his jacket pockets; Giovanni watched him go, a hum building in the back of his throat. He really was perfect _.  _ He turned toward his guard and handed his wallet back—he intended to return to his sunbathing, now that he had something particularly…  _ wonderful  _ to daydream about.

“Find out where he lives,” Giovanni ordered. The plastic of his chair squeaked as he sat back into it. “In fact, I want to know everything about him. Now. I want to know where he is if I ever desire to see him again.” He picked his book back up, aware that he wouldn’t be returning to its pages in any real way.

 

“The fucking  _ nerve  _ of that guy,” Guzma muttered to himself as he entered the Shady House. Some grunts scattered away from the door in surprise, but then relaxed as they realised it was just Guzma. He was a bit tough on them, and he knew that, but most of it was just for show. They nodded at him as he climbed up the stairs to his room, thoroughly pissed.

Everything about Giovanni freaked him the fuck out. The man’s poker face was incredible—he’d gotten all up in Guzma’s space without flinching; a fucking innocent, overly-interested smile plastered on his face. Sizing him up like a piece of meat in the supermarket. It’d given Guzma full-body shudders.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Plumeria commented as Guzma stomped in. “You good, boss?”

“Ain’t never been better,” he growled out. He tugged the cash he’d received out of his pocket and shoved it at her. “Go get some supplies or somethin’.” Plumeria nodded, taking a second to count the cash; her fingers moved quicker than any Guzma had ever seen, covered in a colorful array of spray paint from whatever she’d been vandalising.

“Who’d you battle for this?” Plumeria asked, not looking up. “This is a pretty big chunk of change.”

“Doesn’t matter where I got it from,” Guzma replied, heading to his room. “We got it now. So use it.” He shuffled past the Team Skull members that were littering the hallway, nodding to a few of them when they greeted him. A couple were strewn out in a random pattern on the floor and he nudged at them with his foot.

They jerked away, blinking up at him with wide, owlish eyes. They’d been sleeping, because of  _ course  _ they’d been. It was like their parents had never taught them what a bed was.

“We got beds. Sleep in ‘em.” They sheepishly got to their feet and did as they were told. Guzma shook his head and continued on his way to his room. He didn’t want to, but he was unintentionally focused on the interaction he’d had earlier that day. Giovanni was like an uninvited guest, mocking him with every step he took.

Guzma stomped into his bedroom, thankful that there was no one loitering about. “Next time I see that guy, I’m going to take out his teeth,” he growled to himself, shrugging his jacket off. He tossed it onto the seat of his makeshift throne, before tossing himself onto his bed.

He felt the metal of the springs pressing hard into his back and he grunted, managing to toe off his shoes and roll fully onto the bed, looking for a better position to relax in. Guzma folded his hands behind his head, staring up at the stained ceiling. He didn’t bother turning the room light off before he’d laid down, and he didn’t care enough to get up and do it now. 

It hadn’t been hard to find Team Skull’s hideout, if it could be considered a hideout at all. Everyone in Alola knew where Team Skull could be found. They’d taken a whole town without consideration for secrecy, and if Giovanni hadn’t met Guzma, he’d think it was brave. Now that he knew him, he knew it was sheer, stubborn stupidity. 

“Place is a mess, sir,” a recon scout told him, handing over a folder. 

“I figured as much,” Giovanni replied, flipping through the various maps of the place. “But it’s clear for a delivery, if I so desired?” The recon scout nodded, folding her hand behind her back. “Good.”

 

Guzma grunted and curled into his blanket, trying to ignore the grunt calling his name. 

“ —Sorry to interrupt you boss, but a package is here for you.” 

“Din’t order nothin’,” Guzma replied, not bothering to roll over. “Must’ve gotten the wrong address.”

“Doesn’t have the wrong name on it,” the grunt replied. “Didn’t catch nobody droppin’ it off, but it looks like it was hand-delivered.” Guzma cracked an eye open, a feeling of dread washing over him, leaving him cold. “Want me to toss it?”

Guzma rolled over and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. “Nah, hand it over. Then go bother someone else, won’t ya? I’m sure someone else around here is tryna sleep.” He grabbed the box, nose scrunching in distaste at the feel of the slick, brown paper under his fingers. His name was on it alright, in some fancy lettering that he couldn’t help but sneer at. Twine was tied tightly around it, trimmed carefully so that the only way to get it off was with a knife.

“I don’t know if he thinks this shit is funny.” Guzma dug a hand into his pocket, shifting around until he could grab the edge of his knife and yank it out. He knew it was Giovanni. It had to be. Guzma didn’t know how long he’d slept, but it couldn’t have been long enough for the rich fuck to find out where he lived—or maybe it was. It wasn’t like Team Skull kept it a secret.

The twine came off with careful jerks of his knife, spinning away from the blade. The paper went next, torn away by dirty nails and calloused fingertips. The cardboard met much of the same treatment, torn away rather than cut. Guzma forced his nails under the ends of the tape and ripped it away in thin, long strips and uncooperative pieces, cursing the entire time.

Inside the small box was a smaller set of delicate boxes, each one covered in fine, silky velvet. Guzma was loathe to touch them, but he  _ did  _ pick them up and eye them in distaste. When each one was opened, he nearly tossed them away from him.

Rings. One was a simple gold band, whilst the other had a single black gem set in it. Guzma snapped them shut and tossed them onto his bed in favor of reading the note that was folded and set neatly in the bottom.

_ I hope you might reconsider dinner.  _

It was scrawled in that same, luxurious font and was signed with a big, fat ‘G’. Guzma crumbled the letter up and tossed it behind him as well. He kicked at the box in irritation, lip raising in a snarl. He promptly got up and brought his foot down,  _ hard,  _ on the corner of the cardboard box—he swore—the box crumpled, but he’d forgotten that he was barefoot. A shooting pain jerked through his foot and he swore again, tugging it up to rub the pain away.

Guzma toppled backward, swearing once more as he landed on the small boxes, one of them digging into his spine. He rolled over, away from it, still clutching his foot and cursing up a storm. Luckily no one had come in to check on him, leaving him to suffer, happily, alone.

 

Giovanni had expected a lot of things, but he hadn’t expected to be ambushed by Guzma—and without his goons to boot. He narrowly avoided two small, flying objects that were chucked at his head. Upon brief inspection, he realised they were the rings he’d sent him, still in their boxes.

“Don’t tell me you’re not a fan of jewellery,” Giovanni said, voice dry. “I thought you’d like some real gold for once.” 

“Keep your shit to yourself,” Guzma snapped. “I ain’t interested in you or anything you’re selling. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I ain’t the type of guy who needs anybody’s help, let alone gifts from a lonely old man who’s got more money than sense.” His hands hovered down near his hip were his Poké Balls were. “I’ll fuck you up if I gotta, old man.” 

Giovanni raised a hand. “There’s no need for that.” It wasn’t that Giovanni couldn’t take the bratty young man, but he wanted to remain as aloof and cordial as possible. He picked up the small, black boxes and held them out in a single hand. “They’re gifts. I expect nothing in return, however if you’d like to return the kindness, a sit-down dinner would be the preferable repayment.”

Guzma’s ears turned red at the mere suggestion and he stomped his way over, absolutely livid. He grabbed Giovanni by the collar, fingers tightening in the expensive silk of it.

"I don't think you heard me," he snarled. Giovanni held back an amused smile. Guzma was such a cute thing. “I said, I don’t need any sort of sugar daddy. You understand me?” Giovanni stared back at him, making direct eye contact. He slowly wrapped his fingers around Guzma’s wrist and pulled it away from his collar.

“I understand perfectly,” Giovanni said. He turned Guzma’s hand over and put the two boxes into his hand. His hands were so  _ big  _ in comparison to his own. “Take them anyway.”

Guzma wanted to fling both of them in his face, but curled his fingers around them, tight. They gave a creaking, low squeak under the pressure, almost in time with the sound of his teeth gritting together. He yanked his hands away from Giovanni, shaking his head.

“I’m warning you, you old fogey—try anything again and I won’t hesitate to bash your skull in.” He’d toss the rings over a bridge somewhere, or sell them to make some extra cash. “And stop whatever the fuck you think this is. It ain’t funny.”

Giovanni watched him storm off in amusement, cocking his head to the side. He’d only proven his point further. He’d have Guzma used to being spoiled yet, regardless of how he felt about the issue. It was just a matter of time.

 

The next present Guzma received was well over a week later, after he’d settled into the idea that Giovanni had taken his threat seriously. But then a courier showed up on the doorstep, seemingly unbothered by the small army of grunts that had surrounded him. Guzma had lumbered out, standing straight for the first time in weeks.

“What the fuck do you want?” He’d hissed out. The courier went to dig in his bag, only to bring out a Poké Ball. Guzma stared at it, and then stared at the man holding it. “What’s that?”

“The Boss wants you to have this,” he replied. The grunts turned to look at Guzma, who was trying to burn holes through the courier with his eyes. He still snatched the Poké Ball from the man’s hand all the same.

“Go. Get the fuck out of here,” Guzma snapped. “If I see you here again, I’ll let my boys fuck you up, eh?” The man was gone before he finished his sentence, and he spun around to look at the grunts. “What are you doing just sitting there and staring? Go find something to do before I find something for you to do instead!”

The grunts dispersed in a less-than-orderly fashion. Guzma could tell they were curious, but he didn’t want them involved in whatever game Giovanni was trying to play. People could say what they wanted, but he would never get them in trouble unless he had to.

Guzma walked away from base, slipping out the entrance of Po Town and off to a somewhat secluded area, just in case whatever was in the Poké Ball (if anything) wanted to go ham and destroy the Shady House. He took a somewhat deep breath before cutting it off in with a huff—he wasn’t about to be scared of some Pokémon, didn’t matter what it was. 

“Well, ain’t you a cutie,” Guzma said, staring at the bug Pokémon that had come out of the Poké Ball when he’d tossed it. It looked like a dragonfly with long, clear wings and curious, intelligent eyes. “Alright, gotta hand it to him. Sending me a bug Pokémon I’ve never seen before.” He shrugged, and then took a step back when he felt something nudge against him.

“Yanma,” the Pokémon insisted, buzzing around Guzma’s shoulders.

“Alright, alright, no need to be a bully about it,” Guzma teased, feeling unexpectedly amused. “You want some Poké Beans, huh? Here, let me get out my case before you have a fit.” He fished out his Poké Bean case and grabbed a few—the Yanma quickly gobbled them up, buzzing happily. “You’re a big guy, aren’t you? Not as big as Golisopod, but pretty big.”

If Yanma cared about what he’d said, it didn’t show it. Guzma snorted and picked up the Poké Ball, kneeling down with a grunt. “Now I know you’re not some irate Gyarados, guess we can head back to base and I can introduce you to the rest of the punks I live with.” 

Guzma scowled as he remembered who’d given him the Yanma in the first place, before shaking his head. There was no good reason to get rid of a free Pokémon. He called the Yanma back to its Poké Ball, promising to do some research on its species as soon as he had a free moment.

_ What the fuck is he going to do next?  _ Guzma thought to himself, kicking through some low brush.  _ It’ll be bad if presents like this are going to start showing up. Don’t need to give the grunts a reason to think I’ve slipped under the thumb of anyone.  _ He scowled, and then sighed. He didn’t want to play footsie with old mama’s boy, who had never worked for nothing. The idea of it made his hands curl into fists hard enough that he could feel his nails digging into his palm.

“Fuck,” he swore, kicking at a pinecone. “What the hell am I going to do with this guy?”

**Author's Note:**

> #dancesacrossthestage
> 
> Want to stay updated? Want to chat or shoot me a prompt? Have an idea that you'd like me to consider for this pairing? Feel free to click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) for my tumblr or[here](https://twitter.com/thepr3acher) (my twitter) to do all these things and more!


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